


with the wind

by lumosflowers (mariusette)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7590115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariusette/pseuds/lumosflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongdae sees a tiny person stealing his sugar cubes and vows to never go drinking with Sehun again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with the wind

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for chenpionship's 2015 round. reposted from [here](http://chenpionships.livejournal.com/46454.html)

“Hyung,” Sehun says, “You need to leave the house.”

Jongdae feels inclined to disagree. The cold winds are picking up and the chilly November breeze leaves mist on his window panes, swirling across the glass in waves. Winter is almost here and his heating is already giving out on him, but at least the walls of the house provide some sort of protection from the cold. With one arm already in a cast, he isn’t really too keen on risking a slip and ending up out of work for the entire season. He has every right to stay cooped up and Sehun really can’t tell him otherwise, especially considering the fact that it was Sehun’s boyfriend who broke his arm in the first place.

Besides, he just made instant ramen.

He makes this apparent by slurping loudly in reply. The phone nearly slips from between his cheek and shoulder as he tries to make his point.

On the other end of the line, he hears Sehun sigh, “You’ve been cooped up inside for almost two weeks. I haven’t seen your face once since you broke your arm-”

“Since _Jongin_ broke my arm,” he corrects adamantly.

“Fine,” Sehun sounds exasperated against the muffled sounds of what he assumes is Jongin playing Candy Crush. “So what? It’s not healthy and you’re being a baby.”

“Heechul told me not to bother coming into work even when I offered to just work the register, so I’m making good use of my time.” ( _“An eyesore,”_ Baekhyun, his coworker, had reiterated. _“You’ll ruin the aesthetic.”_ ) “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t know, go for a walk or something. Look for a roommate like you said you would. You’re just a little broken, not allergic to the free, living world. Or,” Sehun continues, “Now that you’ve got all this free time, you could try dating again—”

“You know what,” Jongdae cuts him off, tapping his chopsticks against the counter. He doesn’t need this talk right now. “Jongin was much nicer when we spoke. We had a really good conversation that had nothing to do with my well-being and or love life. Put him back on the phone, I know he’s there.”

“You spoke about The Simpsons for, like, a solid hour.”

“So? He’s got good taste. Better than yours.”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend so that makes my taste good by extension.”

“You like trash television, Sehunnie.”

“Top Model is _not_ trash television,” Sehun snaps back, and Jongdae can hear Jongin’s high laughter in the background. “And my TV viewing is not the subject of this conversation, you jerk, you are. Besides,” he adds, “Jongin is just sucking up to you because he feels bad.”

Jongdae snorts loudly. Through Sehun’s chuckles, he can hear Jongin whining at being ratted out, as though Jongdae didn’t already know. In a spurt of reckless, drunk confidence during a games night, Jongdae had leapt for the Wii remote Jongin had been holding, missed, and ended up toppling sideways over a footstool. It really had been an accident, but ever since Jongin has been continually sending him sad dog stickers on Line and offering to make it up to him.

“He knows that I’ve forgiven him, right? It’s not even his fault and I forgave him for it.”

“Yeah, I told him all that too. He’s just being ridiculous. Anyway, hyung,” Sehun continues, “When did you last shower?”

“Uh,” Pinching his shirt between two fingers, Jongdae gives it a hesitant sniff. It smells musty, like sweat and the black bean noodles he might’ve spilled on it a few days ago. Or was it a week?. “…Last night? I took a bath.”

Sehun snorts, “Bullshit,”

“It’s true! Honestly!”

“You’re so full of shit. Jongin said he saw you playing League last night from, like, seven straight through ’til three or something.”  
  
Jongdae curses under his breath and stirs his ramen violently, almost spilling it over the counter. After everything he’s done, trust Jongin to rat him out to Sehun like this, too. He doesn’t need Sehun worrying about him any more than usual, especially when his best friend is barely capable of taking care of himself on a good day. He’s meant to be the worrier, not young, gangly Sehun. When his arm heals, he’s going to find Jongin and he’s going to kick his ass (nicely) and tell him to stop making his boyfriend stress out.

Huffing, he drops the act, “You try showering with a plastic bag over your arm, Sehun, then come talk to me. It’s more convenient not to shower.”  
  
“You’re gross. How are you gonna find a roommate if you stink the place out?”  
  
Jongdae grabs another handful of noodle crumbs and chews again, louder.  
  
“Look, hyung,” There’s some shuffling on the other end of the line before Sehun speaks again. “Just—just get out of the house, yeah? I don’t care if you stink out the bus or the library or the mart or something, just get some fresh air. Talk to someone real. I gotta get ready for work but seriously. I mean it. You’re going to go mad if you stay in there too long.”  
  
“Mm,” he grunts, stabbing his chopsticks around his ramen. “Tell Jongin that he’s unforgiven and I’m gonna fight him.”  
  
“You’ve got a broken arm.”  
  
“I’m gonna fight him anyway. Kim Jongin; top of my ‘to fight’ list.”  
  
“Later, hyung,” Sehun scoffs before hanging up.

The subsequent quiet that fills the room isn’t comfortable. The only noises are the low buzz of the fridge and the hum of voices from the television just across the room. Noises that have been constant for days. He has to admit, Sehun does have a point. It’s been too quiet and too empty for too long and he probably _is_ going to go mad. He’s been eating instant noodles as staple food since Junmyeon’s leftovers ran out a week ago, and the light in the living room popped a few days ago and with his arm how it is, he’s not ready for an attempt at ceiling scaling just yet.

Normally Junmyeon would’ve done it, being proficient at very Dad things like replacing light globes and patching holes that they both swore rats would get into, but he’s gone. Offered an internship and left for Japan a month ago, leaving Jongdae with just his house keys, a few containers of his stirfry rice, and an imitation lightsaber. Very cool, but hardly helpful when it comes to changing a light globe.

He’s put out word with his friends, and a few posts online, but everything so far has turned up nothing. One message from a guy named Minho, who seemed very, very enthusiastic about soccer and the gym, and a call from someone called Henry, who had asked about his opinion on pet snakes. Jongdae had refused him politely while trying very hard not to scream at the thought of a snake in his house.

Since then, nothing further, but maybe Sehun is right. He’s got all this free time now that he can’t work, on top of the fact that university is out for the semester. He’s spending more time at home now than he has in total over the past year, simply because there’s nothing else to do. And time at home means time wasted while his friends continue on with their jobs and lives, leaving him to spend days alone in the apartment watching reruns and eating junk.

Outside could be good in general. He’ll find a way to rug up a bit more against the wind. Get some fresh air before he goes stir crazy. He could drop by the market, or he could head into the city and see if Do Kyungsoo still works and the music store and would like to grab coffee sometime. He could interview some more people for the room too. Despite the cold, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the fresh air is probably nice too but…

Jongdae takes one look at the half eaten noodles on the counter that he so lovingly prepared, and then at the comfort of the living room where he’s been holed up for the past week, and makes his decision.

Grabbing his noodles off the counter, he retreats towards the couch.

Maybe tomorrow, Sehun. Futurama is on.

»»--------------------------««

  
Jongdae wakes up to the sound of scraping.

He spends several moments in the dark, uncomfortable and thoroughly confused. He’d dozed off during his marathon, the result of his late nights spent gaming and more than twenty minutes of inactivity. The television is quietly playing some sappy teenage drama that he can’t remember putting on, and he can’t quite feel one of his feet but, more importantly, _what the fuck is that sound?_

It’s most definitely not coming from his television because it’s most definitely coming from his kitchen or, more specifically, his kitchen counter. The scrape of something hard across the benchtop is an entirely familiar noise. In the dim light of the stove overhead he’d left of, he can see the shadow of something against the gaudy kitchen wallpapers. It’s small and hardly discernible between the utensils and appliances on the counter, but there’s definitely something there because said something is definitely moving.

Craning his neck but refusing to shift further, Jongdae squints at it.

The shadow scuffles along the counter quietly, picking at something with small hands—paws? claws?—and turns it over a few times.

It looks like a rat.

Jongdae swallows.

It better not be a rat.

Slowly, he reaches for his phone. He finds it on the coffee table after hitting his hand a few times and presses the home button. The screen lights up like a beacon and Jongdae screws his eyes shut, suddenly blinded. Rubbing the glare out of his eyes, he risks a glance at the screen. 3:04am. Three new messages from Jongin, one from Sehun. He ignores them and heads straight for the internet.

A brief search brings up nothing but fear. _5 reasons rats are way scarier than you think_. Jongdae reads the title and blanches. He doesn’t want to know. He already knows that rats could probably live through the apocalypse. He also knows that they can eat through plastic and plaster and metal. Probably bone as well, but he sure a hell doesn’t need confirmation on that because he’d rather not think about waking up without toes. He loves his toes. He needs his toes. He’s not going to let a rat take his toes away from him.

Instead, he opens the group chat. He ignores Jongin’s three dog stickers and Sehun’s filtered picture of the sky most definitely targeted at him ( _look how nice it is today_ , it reads. #nofilter #lovelife) and heads straight for panic.  
  
To: Kim Jongin, Oh Sehun  
3:11am  
_there’s a rat in my kitchen what do i do 。。(ﾉ´д)ﾉ_  
_do i confront it_  
_guys help_  
_guuuuuuys_  
_this is an emergency!!!_  
_what if it eats my fingers then i’ll have NOTHING_  
  
3:13am  
_i can’t even sleep with a knife just in case because they’re in the kitchen_  
_it’s hoarding the knives i’m so screwed (;﹏;)_  
  
3:14am  
_this is the last will and testament of kim jongdae and you’re both ASLEEP_  
_i’ll remember this_  
  
The scraping suddenly stops, and there is a light patter of movement before it’s quiet again. The television plays like white noise in the silence of the apartment, light flickering dully through the room. Jongdae locks his phone and lies in the dark, breathing and listening.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Nothing at all.  
  
He doesn’t know how long he lies there listening to the muted buzz of his apartment but nothing else happens. The shadow is gone and the noises have stopped and there’s nothing crawling on him. Jongdae feels a yawn coming on but there’s no way he’s going to retreat to bed now, especially on the off chance that there is a rodent staking out in his doorway. Shifting, he rearranges the cushions and finds a comfortable position, making sure to tuck his feet up beneath the blanket, just in case.

»»--------------------------««

  
The next morning, Jongdae actually leaves the house.

Sehun’s nagging had nothing to do with it, and it was certainly not because Sehun’s LINE reply around 9am was _this is because you didn’t shower, hyung_. The only reason he’d left the house is because of the need to remove the sudden unwanted visitor that had moved into his kitchen without permission. He doesn’t want to be a fussy landlord but, by god, if it is a rat or some other pest, a forceful eviction is the only way. (He also doesn’t need a visit from his own fussy landlord, Yi Fan, who he knows wouldn’t appreciate rats in his precious building, or Jongdae screaming bloody murder at all hours of the morning if he woke up to a rat on him).

As it turns out, the pest had only stolen some of his sugar cubes from the bowl on the counter. By the looks of it, at least. Jongdae had found out after the sun rose when he’d entered the kitchen to check it out, wielding both dirty ramen chopsticks in his good hand in case of attack. There had been no sign of any pest or intruder, absolutely no evidence of the night before bar a slightly shifted bowl and some missing sugar but when something had thumped near his fridge he’d nearly taken his own eye out in the process of escaping the kitchen.  
  
Normally at this time on a Wednesday he’d be at work, making coffees through the morning tea rush and bickering with Baekhyun over the noise of service. However, since the accident, he’s been perpetually banned from the cafe and from making coffees entirely by Heechul, his eccentric boss, who was adamant about him resting and insisting that he be careful, please.  
  
He wonders if standing uselessly around the hardware store is considered careful enough. The last time he was in here was maybe four years ago with Sehun, who had ditched him and let him wander around, clueless, for over an hour, before putting out a missing child alert over the PA system.

He hasn’t been back since, and it probably shows. He’s just a humble barista on break from a humanities degree at university; he didn’t ask for this. But he needs to be here. He can’t drag a new roommate into his own personal rat hell, so this has to be done. The attendant at the end of the aisle sends him a worried look and Jongdae huffs to himself, turning back to the traps and nodding at them in an attempt to seem like he knows what he’s doing.

Jongdae hesitantly reaches for one of the mouse traps hanging from the wall. He wonders how many would be considered too many. They look rather flimsy, and rats are meant to be, like, super mice, right? It could take four, maybe five to bring one down. And what if it’s a smart rat? What then? If he approaches the register with twenty mouse traps plus extra in his basket, will they call management on him? The police?  
  
He just wants to get rid of this rat, not become a threat to national security.  
  
The attendant sends him another look and Jongdae smiles sheepishly at him before dragging four traps into the basket hanging from his cast arm. Better safe than sorry.

»»--------------------------««

  
Despite the several strategically placed mouse traps in the kitchen and the fact that he knows how much Jongdae dislikes rats, Sehun offers absolutely no sympathy whatsoever.

“This is because your house is an absolute pigsty,” he says over the phone later that night.

Jongdae had sent him pictures of his hard work, one of him outside the hardware store and another of the traps after he’d set them up. He’d placed them in what he assumed were the most popular places in his kitchen, including his pantry (for obvious reasons), in front of the window (for a more scenic view), and two around the sugar pot (due to popular demand). All Sehun had said in reply was _what if it doesn’t live in your kitchen what then huh_. Immediately, Jongdae had rung him, whining for help.

“If you cleaned up,” Sehun continues, his deep voice echoing out from the phone speaker on the counter as Jongdae maneuvers through his kitchen, shifting the traps until he’s satisfied. “Maybe you wouldn’t be having this problem.”

Jongdae snorts, “Like you can talk. I’ve seen your house, Sehun, it’s atrocious.”

“Is not.”

“Is too, and you know it.” He hears Sehun scoffs indignantly but he doesn’t say anything further. “Besides,” Jongdae continues, “I don’t want to go snooping around in corners in case it’s hiding in there. I would like my fingers to stay as they are.”

“It’s not going to bite your fingers off, hyung.”

“You don’t know that. It stole some of my sugar last night and now maybe it’s craving, I don’t know, something with more protein. Like human flesh.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“If you’re not going to help me I’ll hang up and it’ll be your fault if I end up full of holes and looking like a piece of cheese.”

“You know what,” Sehun says, chuckling. Jongdae knows this laugh. It’s the laugh Sehun has reserved for when Jongdae overreacts. It’s incredulous and amused and Jongdae feels attacked. “I’m willing to take that responsibility because that’s not going to happen.”

“What? Are we a rat expert now are we?.”

Sehun ignores him, pointedly changing the subject, “Also, you know that when I meant go outside, I didn’t mean stop by the hardware store then come straight home.”

“You said go for a walk,” Jongdae replies, glancing down the counter for a decent spot to place the trap. He briefly considers the sink, wondering what the possibility of a rat crawling up the drain pipe is. “So I went for a walk.”

“Hyung—“

“I’m fine, Sehun. You need to stop worrying about me.”

“Since you’re so fine and so free to sit on your ass all day,” Sehun says, “Let’s go out for drinks on Friday night.”

“I don’t know. I mean last time I went out for drinks with you I did break my arm,” Jongdae teases, walking over to the corner of the kitchen near where the bin sits. Rats like trash and scraps, right? Bending down, he shifts the bin to the side and carefully places the trap beside it. “I don’t know if I can deal with two broken limbs.”

“What?”

“I said,” he says, stepping backwards to get a better look, “I don’t want two broken limbs—ouch, fuck—”

Something crunches beneath his foot as he steps back, and a sharp pain rockets up his heel. Carefully, Jongdae shifts his weight to his other leg and leans against the counter, where Sehun is badgering him through the phone.

“You didn’t snap one, right? Actually, did you? Please tell me you did—“

“I—ah—I didn’t snap one, thank you for your concern,” Jongdae responds, confused. “I just… stepped on something? I think?”

He’s not wrong, Jongdae realises as he looks at where his foot had just been. There, on the hardwood floor, is what appears to be a crushed walnut shell and a few leaves which look suspiciously like those from the plant in his living room. There are a few other bits and pieces around it, including what looks like cracked blue bead of some description.

Jongdae frowns. He doesn’t eat nuts, nor can he ever remember any of his friends having eaten walnuts while visiting, so he’s got no clue how he somehow managed to track this sort of rubbish into his house. And, on the bottom of his foot, pushed right into the heel, is a brass thumbtack, glinting shamelessly in the light of the kitchen.

He doesn’t even own thumbtacks.

Pulling it out with a hiss, Jongdae drops the thumbtack on the counter before gingerly crouching down to pick through the mess. And then he sees it, crushed among the leaves and shell pieces.

A sugar cube.

“The rat,” Jongdae breathes.

“Hyung, are you alright?” Sehun asks. It’s probably the third or fourth time he’s doing so but Jongdae isn’t listening.

He’s too busy staring at the mess on the floor. He hadn’t tracked it in after all. The goddamn rat had returned to the scene of the crime itself and had left blatant evidence of its existence. And, on top of this, the pest has just made an attack on his life. Targeted his heel in hopes of bringing him down as revenge, obviously due to the traps that Jongdae is currently in the process of setting.

“Hyung,” Sehun repeats, concern slipping into his voice. “Are you okay? Do you need me to call anyone? Are you dying? Hyung—“

“I’m fine,” he finally says, collecting the mess and standing straight again. “I’m fine, Sehunnie.”

His best friend exhales with relief, “What was that? What happened?”

“The rat—”

“Gross,” Sehun says sharply, cutting him off. “You didn’t step on it, right? That’s disgusting—”

“Ew, no,” he replies with disgust, scrunching up his nose. Jongdae doesn’t even want to think about a squashed rat, much less being the one to do it. “It left a thumbtack on the floor and I stepped on it—”

“It?”

“Yeah, the rat.”

“…what?”

“Because of the sugar!” Jongdae insists. “The sugar it took from the pot last night, it left some on the floor as a sign that it’s after me! Now that I’ve got these traps, it knows that I know that it’s in my house and it’s trying to get rid of me before I can get rid of it.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Sehun says deliberately. “You think that a rat, a common household rat, somehow orchestrated this entire series of events to exact revenge on you? To, what? Kill you?”

“It makes sense, right?”

The line is silent for a few moments before Jongdae hears his best friend burst into incredulous laughter, “You— you really need to get out of the house. We are going out tomorrow night and we are going to get you some fresh air and then we are going to get you smashed—“

“ _Sehun_ —“

“No way, this is non-negotiable. You are not fine. You’ve been cooped up inside too long and the best remedy here, I’d say, is alcohol. And lots of it.”

»»--------------------------««

  
Sehun rocks up at his door on Friday evening at exactly 7pm after his shift at the hospital finishes. Nursing intern Oh Sehun, applauded for his care and kindness with his patients, forcefully manhandles Jongdae into the bedroom the moment he steps into the apartment.

“We’re meeting Jongin and some of his dance friends at Lucky’s at 8pm. If you’re not dressed by quarter to I’m dragging you there in your Pikachu pyjamas,” Sehun states bluntly as he shoves Jongdae towards the closet.

Whining, Jongdae concedes and retreats to change. As cute as these pyjamas are, he’d rather not wear them out in public, let alone around Jongin’s dance friends. If Jongin is anything to go by, his friends should be just as if not more attractive. Attractive enough, at least, for Jongdae to forget his lonely roommate sorrows and the goddamn rat problem in his house.

Since crushing the pile of rubbish in the kitchen, it’s been quiet. Too quiet. Jongdae keeps expecting for it to be there waiting for him, ready to beat him up for crushing whatever that mess was. Besides from his daily challenges on Temple Run, the only thing Jongdae has to worry about is the fact that one of the traps has actually gone missing.

The windowsill trap had been there yesterday, but this morning he’d woken to find it vanished. At first he thought it’d fallen somewhere or maybe he’d shifted it and forgotten. But, after scouring the kitchen and turning up nothing, it’d become really suspicious. Surely the rat couldn’t have stolen right, right? He didn’t have mutant rats did he? That’s not possible.

It’s not fair, he thinks. When he’d put out a notice for a roommate, it was to fill the space that Junmyeon left behind. The capable funny best friend. A rat doesn’t fill that roommate brief. He wasn’t invited to stay. Hopefully the traps will do something, but there’s even less of a chance of that happening now that one has gone missing. He just hopes the remaining ones will work, and he makes sure to double check them all before Sehun drags him from the house.

»»--------------------------««

  
His head is pounding. That’s the first thing Jongdae registers. His face is pressed against something cool and there’s an awful taste in his mouth. When he opens his eyes, the bright sunshine slipping through the blinds catches him and he squints, blinded.

Living room, he realises. He’s in the living room. How he ended up on his couch he doesn’t remember, nor does he remember why he’s using the television guide as a pillow. Probably something to do with Sehun. Or Jongin. Or Yixing, Jongin’s attractive Chinese dancer friend, who Jongdae is certain he got digits from last night. Maybe. He’ll check later. Right now, he needs coffee.

Groaning, Jongdae drags himself off the couch with much effort. He makes a blind attempt towards the kitchen, shuffling his way over. He hits the kitchen table corner with a hiss. Sehun wasn’t lying when he said he’d get him smashed. Jongdae feels like he’s been hit by a bus.

He collects a mug and flips the kettle on, staring blankly as it heats. He can’t remember a god damn thing about last night after one of the many rows of shots Sehun made them do. Tequila shots aren’t so easy with a broken arm and cast combination, and he remembers them going down hard and dry, tearing up his throat and blowing out his sinuses like usual. More shots after that probably. Vodka too, he recalls with shame, and, if the pain his his knees is anything to go by, there was dancing as well. Which means he might have danced in front of Yixing.

Taking a deep breath, Jongdae lets out a frustrated whine. He can’t dance, what was he thinking? Did drunk Jongdae think this idea would work? _Why_ , he asks himself, running a hand down his face, _why do you do these things when you know you can’t dance?_ He tilts his head forward, exhaling, and moves to grab the bag of instant coffee.

And then he sees it; a small movement behind the sugar pot on his counter. It’s small and if he had reached for the bag any any later he would’ve missed it. Jongdae stills, gaze locked onto the jars. Nothing moves but he’s certain. It’s the rat. It’s here right now. It’s in his goddamn kitchen right now and those traps haven’t done a thing because it’s _right here_.

Slowly, he reaches for the jar. If he moves slowly at first, then launches in quickly, it could work. He can scare it off and spend the next hour or so trying not to have a panic attack. It’s a good idea. He’ll frighten it right into the sink or a trap or out the window and it’ll be _gone_ —

However, when he snatches the jar back, it’s not a rat that goes sprinting across his kitchen bench. It’s something less furry and more, well, clothed. Jongdae realises, with sudden surprise, that his rat is not so much a rat but seems to be a tiny person, and said tiny person has in its possession another one of his sugar cubes. The thief doesn’t even spare a glance as they shoots across the counter towards the window, black hair bouncing as they go. Within moments they’ve traversed the sink and effortlessly climbed the wooden herb rack before disappearing from sight.

Jongdae can only stare after them, gaping at where they disappeared into the herb rack with shock. On the counter the kettle screeches, but he feels numb. That is the strangest god damn thing he’s ever seen in his entire life. He must be dreaming. He has to be. He stands there, stupefied and blinking, before pinching himself hard on the upper arm. He winces at the sharp pain but nothing changes.

He is never letting Sehun take him drinking again. Ever.

»»--------------------------««

  
It’s definitely a person, Jongdae concludes over the next week. He might have been nursing a killer hangover, but that was certainly not a rat. He certainly was not dreaming. Legs and arms are one thing, but the red shirt and very human face is a different matter altogether. The fact that they’d been able to use the sugar pot also makes sense now. While a rat lifting and replacing a lid with that sort of precision is borderline impossible, opposable thumbs make all the difference.

The tiny stranger doesn’t make another physical appearance but Jongdae freezes at every small sound and scuffle he hears, just in case. He doesn’t know what this stranger wants, doesn’t know if he can trust him. Hell, this stranger tried to _kill_ him.

For a few days he tries to lure them out with sugar cubes along the window sill and towards the pot, but nothing happens. They’re all in the exact places the next morning, untouched. The sugar in the pot as well remains the same.

Several times he tries calling out to them only to have the ticking clock respond to him. The stranger has yet to come out again or make themselves known, but Jongdae doesn’t blame them. With all those traps set around, the set up is tantamount to murder. Rats are one thing but tiny humans living in his kitchen are still humans no matter how tiny they are. Needless to say, he feels awful.

Sehun, on the other hand, is convinced he’s lost it. He makes this vocal to Jongdae as he follows him around the shopping centre, basket hanging from his long fingers. The bubble tea in his other hand had been the only to get him out of the house on his day off, especially now that Sehun thinks he’s spouting complete nonsense.

“I can’t believe you’re making sacrificial offerings to the rat in your house.”  
  
“They’re not sacrificial offerings,” Jongdae replies with an amused snort. “They’re apology gifts. For almost killing it. And it’s not a rat. I told you, I _saw_ it. It had _fingers_ , Sehunnie.”  
  
“Rats have fingers! It’s a _rat_ , hyung. You were hungover. You shouldn’t be giving it chocolate. It’ll invite all it’s friends.”  
  
“Mm,” he hums, reaching to grab a few blocks on the shelf. Holding two in his good hand as best he can, he turns to his best friend. “Which one do you think is better? Which one says _sorry for trying to kill you_?”  
  
Sehun sends him an exasperated look, “Hyung.”  
  
“ _Sehun_ ,” Jongdae whines, “I just want to fix things! I don’t want the tiny person in my house to hate me. Please help me?”  
  
After a few beats, Sehun sighs in resignation and indicates to the pink one. “That one,” he says, “The strawberry.”  
  
“Alright! I agree. Good choice,” Jongdae smiles and drops it into the basket hanging from Sehun’s arm. “You can never go wrong with strawberry.”

»»--------------------------««

  
He gets no response from the tiny thief. He’d left the chocolate open beside the sugar pot overnight, but it had remained completely untouched. Sehun was wrong, he notes. Strawberry had been a complete failure. The following day he leaves out the nut one, only to turn up the same results. So maybe his tiny visitor didn’t like chocolate. That’s okay. He’ll find something else.

He tries pieces of muesli, cereal flakes, ground coffee powder, a few seeds, and some nuts, all on at different times, but they each turn up nothing. Jongdae is starting to worry about whether or not the tiny thief is still even here, or if he’d scared him away that night. He needs to prove it for real. He needs to see it again for his own sake, and he has to convince Sehun that he hasn’t lost it. He hasn’t.

Next he tries a small pile of leaves. It’s not much and it seems like the cheapest gift in the whole damn book of gift giving, especially seeing as though he had just snatched them from the plant in the living room, but hey. It’s worth a try. Jongdae is happy when he counts and realises two are missing, until he finds them sticking upwards in his sugar pot like two green, floppy rabbit ears.

A surprised laugh slips out, cutting through his disappointment. The tiny thief had been out, at least.

They were still here. And they were messing with him.

Jongdae decides to step it up the next time and try harder. He’s yet to find anything that the tiny thief likes but, seeing as though they’re still here, he’s not ready to stop trying just yet. He leaves different kind of leaves out, as well as some string he’d found, just in case. While the leaves remain untouched this time, the string is gone in the morning.

Over the next few days he leaves more and more gifts, but suddenly the thief stops collecting. He still hears the light scraping at night sometimes but never from his kitchen anymore, and definitely not from his sugar pot. He hears it from his pantry once and sprints over only to find it completely void of life, everything perfect except for a few tiny holes in the bottom of his bag of coffee grind. He desperately wants to pin this on the thief but there’s hardly any evidence towards it in the slightest.

Eventually his tiny thief seems less believable and more like a figment of his weary, exhausted imagination. He was hungover when he saw them, as well as half asleep and potentially delirious. He’d removed the traps and his sleep has taken a major swandive since the sighting, and this Grand Roommate Hunt has plateaued. He’s been so preoccupied with luring out this strange rat thief hybrid that he’s all completely shoved aside the idea of a new roommate.

Right now, he just has to get it. Whatever it is, tiny person or mutant rat or otherwise, the sooner it’s found and out, the better.

»»--------------------------««

  
He ends up staking out with a bugbox in the kitchen. Sehun had recommended it at first but Jongdae had been hopeful. Hopeful that he could just lure the tiny thief out with sugar and leaves and everything would be fine. He could catch them and prove that he didn’t have a rat problem. He could send a photo to Sehun to reassure his best friend of his sanity and then part with the tiny thief on amicable terms. It was a good deal.

But now that he’s not so certain about the nature of this thing living free in his apartment, he’s resorted to it. He doesn’t want to call in the exterminators. He can’t afford that kind of method, and he certainly doesn’t want to explain to Yi Fan that he’s a lousy tennant with a rat problem he can’t solve himself. He’s going to do this alone and prove that he’s capable of taking care of himself.

The bait he puts in is the remnants of the murder attempt from just over a week ago. He’d collected them off the floor and thrown most of it away, especially the broken walnut and damaged leaves from his plant. The tiny bead pieces that he’d slipped into his pocket now sit at the bottom of the bugbox, cracked and looking like junk among the new leaves he’d replaced the old ones with. It’s hardly a decent piece of bait, having been crushed and replaced as best he could, but it still belongs to whatever is living in his kitchen.

He wonders though, just how smart this thief is. They already seem pretty adept at sneaking and hiding and knowing what to grab and where from, but does that extend to knowing the basic idea behind a bugbox. Not that he’s planning on using it to dispose of the visitor (maybe), but the point still stands.

Jongdae sets it up first thing that morning when he wakes up, placing it in the center of his kitchen table. He tries go on about his day as usual, but checks too frequently, too eager to see something. Anything. In the end he resigns himself to sitting beside it, watching and waiting and hoping for something to happen, only to end up asleep an hour later, head against his arm as he naps.

He wakes an hour or so later, expecting nothing, only to find his bugbox inhabited.

Sitting on the floor of the box, surrounded by leaves, is a tiny person. The same tiny person he’d seen dart across his kitchen bench days early. On closer look now Jongdae realises that it’s a tiny boy, with small round cheeks and soft black hair that hangs past his eyes. He looks so fragile yet almost magical, almost as though he’d disappear in the blink of an eye. He’s wearing a shirt combination of red and white material scraps, each piece stitched together neatly, and the shorts on his legs are much the same. A sewing needle lies on the ground beside him, attached to his waist with the same piece of string Jongdae remembers leaving out a few days back. It wraps around his middle and then over his shoulder, fastening the needle in place. On his other side, hangs what appears to be a small satchel, made from a dark leather like material.

Jongdae can’t tear his eyes away. He can’t believe that there’s actually a tiny person sitting in his kitchen. He can’t believe there’s a person this tiny that exists altogether. When he lets out a quiet breath, the boy suddenly shifts, turning to look at him with caution. There’s a moment of silence between them, the boy visibly stiffening when he notices that Jongdae is awake, before Jongdae risks speaking.

“You’re not a rat,” he breathes, still very much surprised.

The boy stands then, pushing himself up and turning to face Jongdae completely. Fully standing, he is no taller than maybe four inches. He seems to bristle at Jongdae’s last comment.

“What do you want?” He says, voice calm and articulate.

“What?”

“You keep leaving me things and talking to the walls, but you keep trying to catch me. So now you’ve got me. What do you want?”

“I-” Jongdae finds himself stumped for words at just how blunt the boy is. “I just wanted to see you. To see if you were real.”

The boy studies him for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly as he scrutinises Jongdae’s face. “Is that it?”

“You’re the one that’s been living in my house, right?” Jongdae asks. “The one who's been stealing my sugar cubes and leaving thumb tacks lying around-”

“ _Borrowing_ ,” the boy corrects him, “I’m only borrowing. People aren’t going to miss one sugar cube here and there. And I didn’t leave anything lying around, you nearly _stepped on me_.”

“I-” Jongdae feels both attacked and embarrassed, but mainly very apologetic. “That was your stuff wasn’t it? The walnut and the leaves and… oh.” He trails off when he notices the two small halves of the bead in each of the boy’s hands. The deep blue is shining faintly in the dim light of the kitchen, and now he’s even more aware of just how broken it is.

The boy seems to notice this and swallows, looking down at the pieces. His small fingers curl tighter over the edges and he brings them closer to himself, almost possessively. Protecting them. “Yeah,” he says, an edge of something bittersweet in his voice. “It was my stuff. You stepped back and caught it and I had to leave it.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Jongdae apologises quickly. “I can help you get all your stuff back, maybe try and fix it?”

“No, it’s-” The boy sighs, looking down at the bead pieces again. “It’s fine. I’ll be out of your hair soon anyway. I just have to collect enough stuff to last a few days, then I’ll be gone. We never stay in one place too long.”

“There are more of you?”

The boy hesitates before replying, “There are a lot of us. Sometimes whole communities. Families. Some stay in places forever, while others move around. You don’t have to worry though. It’s just me here.”

Whole communities of tiny people. He struggles to imagine where they could all fit. In mansions, probably. Like the houses in Cinderella and the all the tiny mice there. Or in old, tall houses where there are gaps in the walls and holes everywhere. But the boy said he was alone. It’s amazing, he thinks, that he could do it all alone. Surviving and borrowing and moving from place to place for who knows how long. Jongdae’s barely managing to function without a roommate, without someone to live with and talk to.

Before he has the chance to ask anything else, the boy speaks again. “Is that all?” He asks, tucking the bead halves into his tiny pouch. He looks at Jongdae expectantly, and it’s then that Jongdae remembers that he’s still got this tiny person trapped in a cage.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he starts, standing from his seat and reaching for the bug box. “Do you want me to, uh, carry you over?”

The boy hesitates for a few moments, before conceding with a nod. Carefully, Jongdae takes the handle on the top and lifts the container. The boy inside sways slightly, pressing his small hands against one of the sides to steady himself. Jongdae puts one of his own hands on the bottom to do the same, and carries the box cautiously across to the kitchen bench near the herb rack he’d seen the boy use before. Despite placing it gently on the counter, the sudden thump has the boy falling into one of the sides before he rights himself.

Apologising, Jongdae flips the small circle door up from the side and watches at the boy climbs out. Despite being out in the open and only less than a foot away from him, the boy looks no more real than he had inside the box. Jongdae is still coming to terms with the fact that tiny people exist, let alone the fact that he just had a conversation with one that lives in his house.

The boy brushes himself down before looking back up at Jongdae. He still looks cautious of him, which Jongdae honestly doesn’t blame him for. He had left traps around the place, and him sitting with a bugbox really couldn’t have looked good to begin with.

“Sorry for, uh, trying to kill you,” he says to the boy, offering him an apologetic smile.

The boy merely shrugs, “I’ve had worse.”

“But still,” Jongdae insists, “I really am sorry.”

The boy shrugs again. He shuffles in his spot for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at the herb rack before looking back to Jongdae, “Thanks for letting me go.”

“Of course! Of course I’d let you go,” he says, forcing a laugh. “What was I gonna do? Keep you trapped forever or sell you out to the world?”

“Uh, yeah. That.” Jongdae finds himself at a loss for words once again, mentally cursing himself for putting his foot in his mouth. The boy turns then, readjusting the string and needle around him before turning back. “Bye, I guess.”

“It was nice meeting you!” Jongdae says, smiling hesitantly. After a few moments, the boy offers his own smile, a small quirk of his lips and an amused light to his eyes, before turning and darting back towards the rack.

It’s only after the boy has gone, ducking out of sight behind the fridge, that Jongdae realises he forgot to ask his name.

»»--------------------------««

  
“So how did it go?” Sehun asks him over the phone during dinner. “Did you catch the magical tiny person? Or was it just a rat?”

Jongdae is pushing noodles around his bowl as he replies, “I fell asleep at the table. Do you know how boring your method is Sehunnie? I nearly went crazy just waiting there.”

“Yeah but hyung, did you get anything?”

Jongdae thinks of the tiny boy he caught. He thinks of his inquisitive eyes and caution, and the way his tiny hands hovered near his needle when he was back in the open. How he watched Jongdae closely and seemed uncomfortable the entire time. How Jongdae had unknowingly tried to kill him when he was just trying to live and move on. How he had crushed the tiny thief’s things and almost him as well made everything that much harder. And how his poor taste in joke about keeping him contained had been taken seriously. Almost too seriously.

“No,” Jongdae answers finally, “I didn’t catch anything.”

»»--------------------------««

  
Jongdae wakes the next morning after dreams of giant beads and tiny people and decides he has to do something. He thought he’d sleep better after finally catching the thief but now he feels even worse. All he’d planned to do was catch the rat and release it outside in a park somewhere. Sure, it’d been a long shot but he hadn’t counted on there actually being a tiny person living in house, stuck there because of him.

He decides to help. He’s going to get all the things this little thief needs so he can help him get on his way again and back to whatever community or family he came from. But that means talking to him again, to find out what he needs.

The bugbox worked last time but he highly doubts that the thief will feel comfortable willingly climbing back in again. So he leaves a note. He tears a piece off the bottom of an electricity bill he’d stuck to the fridge and leaves it on the windowsill, where the mouse trap had been only days ago.

He decides not to wait this time, going back into the living room to watch shows and check out emails from potential roommates. There’s a few to get through, but he can hardly think about it when he’s so antsy about the note and the tiny thief.

It’s almost 6pm when the tiny thief makes his appearance. He’s heading into the kitchen to fix dinner when he sees him, sitting calmly on the windowsill beside the letter. Jongdae’s heart leaps into his throat at the sight of him, surprised that he would even stay to listen.

“I got your letter,” the tiny thief says in greeting. He stands and dusts himself down as Jongdae approaches, little chips of wood dust falling from him and collecting on the tiles. He tucks something into his pouch before he continues, “I was wondering when you’d turn around from the picture box.”

“The television?”

“Yeah, the television,” he says, the corner of his lips pulling in amusement. “I’ve been sitting here for an hour. Must be really interesting.”

 _Nice one_ , he thinks. _Invite the thief for a meeting then leave him waiting._ Laughing sheepishly, Jongdae rubs the back of his head, “Sorry. I got sidetracked.”

“So what did you want?”

“I wanted to apologise. Y’know, for leaving all the traps around. And for nearly crushing you. And for the box yesterday. It was probably kinda scary, but you trusted me anyway.”

The tiny thief waves him off, “It’s fine. Really. Like I said yesterday, I’ve had worse.” He sends Jongdae a small reassuring smile before continuing, “Is that all you wanted to say?”

“I also want to help.”

“What?” He seems surprised at that, eyes widening as he fixes Jongdae with a confused look.  
  
“I want to help you. I want to help you get whatever need to get back on your feet so you can keep moving.”

“Why?”

“I feel bad. I crushed all your stuff and you had to stay back because of me. I really want to help you get all your stuff back so you can leave in peace and not have to worry.”

The thief is silent for a few moments as Jongdae’s words sink in. Biting his lip, he studies Jongdae’s face, like he’s really searching a hint of distrust or potential betrayal or danger, before he finally sighs. There’s an unreadable expression on his face and something akin to almost disappointment in his eyes, but he schools his face quickly into something more neutral.

When the thief doesn’t answer, Jongdae extends his hand, “Please?”

“Okay,” the thief concedes finally, nodding to himself. Reaching forward, he takes the tip of one of Jongdae’s fingers between his tiny hands and shakes it. “It’s a deal.”

»»--------------------------««

  
The tiny thief introduces himself as Minseok, and the list of things he’s after are all relatively easy to get. A few walnuts, only for the shells. Some longer string for climbing and securing things. A thimble ( _“Only if you can find one,”_ Minseok says, and Jongdae makes a note to definitely buy a thimble for him). When Jongdae asks him about the cracked bead Minseok goes quiet before brushing it off, changing the topic to how old and stained Jongdae’s kitchen wallpaper is.

“It’s vintage,” Jongdae says. Junmyeon had chosen it when they first moved in to cover up the ugly flowers from the previous owner.

“It’s kind of... tacky,” Minseok replies, amused as he scratches at it with a small finger. “And it’s really applied badly. There are really big bubbles in it.”

Jongdae snorts then, imagining the look on Junmyeon’s face if he’d heard that. Flustered, probably, that someone would critique his handyman skills and decorative choices. His loud laugh seems to catch Minseok off guard, but he smiles to himself anyway.

When they’re done, Jongdae offers Minseok some of his dinner. He seems content with just a few larger crumbs of bread, but Jongdae insists on heating up a packet of chicken noodle soup. It’s definitely too much for a person as small as Minseok, but it’s fine. He’ll have some and heat the rest up later.

They manage to get the packet open through a team effort on Minseok’s insistence after watching Jongdae struggle alone with his broken arm. He uses both hands to tear the top of the packet open, walking backwards as he tears while Jongdae holds it in his good hand.

While the kettle is boiling, Minseok disappears back up into the herb rack, only to return minutes later with a tiny tea cup. It looks borrowed from a dollhouse, tiny and ceramic and fit for a fairy. Jongdae dips it into the soup and fills it full. It looks like a tiny portion, but Minseok seems content with it.

He hands it to Minseok after he’s climbed back up the rack. It would’ve been nice, he thinks, to have spoken to Minseok a bit longer, but the borrower still seems somewhat hesitant. Jongdae doesn’t blame him in the slightest. He’s just happy Minseok is letting him help. It’s the least he can do.

“Goodnight,” he says.

“Goodnight,” Minseok replies after a moment, as though he’s not used to formalities. He pauses for a beat, before adding, “And thank you.”

»»--------------------------««

  
He goes first thing the next morning, putting in extra effort into showering and washing before he leaves now that he knows he has a guest. He doubts Minseok would be pleased if he kept rolling around dirty when even he, with his limited resources, seems very clean and well kept.

His first stop is the corner store for the walnuts. He finds them easily, before spending another twenty minutes roaming around looking for other things Minseok might like. He considers messaging Sehun to ask which would be more favourable, marshmallows or chocolate covered coffee beans, before remembering that Sehun still thinks he’s sort of lost it. _Jokes on you, Sehun_ , he thinks as he puts both in his basket.

The other things are harder to come by. He gets to the sewing store after missing the stop twice, only to find that it’s closed. Closed on a Wednesday of all days. He spends a few minutes whining to himself outside the store in the cold before deciding to head home and come back later. Hopefully the other stuff will be enough for now.

Minseok isn’t around anywhere when he finally makes it home. He kicks off his shoes and dumps the shopping on the counter before heading straight for the heater. It’s getting colder and colder out, and he thinks of just how warm Minseok could possible be in that tiny shirt of his. He’s particularly skinny too, and if he’s heading out soon he’ll be out during the beginning of winter. Jongdae makes a note to look into some sort of thicker material when he heads back to the store.

He leaves the pack of walnuts on the windowsill, hoping Minseok will see, before he starts making dinner. Minseok appears about ten minutes later, apparently drawn by the sound of the television or the smell of the noodles Jongdae is boiling. Jongdae doesn’t notice him immediately, nearly sweeping him clean into the skin when he turns around to tip the water out. Minseok yells in surprise and darts out of the way, Jongdae almost dropping the bowl in surprise.

“Minseok,” he breathes, leaning against the counter as he tries to calm down, “Warn me next time. I didn’t see you at all and nearly killed you again.”

“You-” Minseok looks just as surprised as he does. “You watch out too. You spend more time watching television than you do your surroundings. You’re going to hurt someone.”

Smiling sheepishly, he goes back to preparing his dinner. “Did you see? I bought you walnuts.”

He nods towards the packet on the windowsill. Minseok takes one look before turning back to him, eyebrows furrowed. “There’s a lot there.”

“You buy them like that, in a full bag. You can have them all if you’d like.”

“I’d drown in all of those,” he says, laughing lightly.

Jongdae snorts, “That’d be nuts.”

Minseok groans, but Jongdae takes pride in the fact that he can’t quite hide his smile.

»»--------------------------««

  
He ends up convincing Minseok to stay for dinner this time, pouring some soup into his little cup before inviting him into the living room to watch television with him. He looks hesitant at first about being carried, but when Jongdae insists that it’s much warmer in there he concedes and climbs onto his half-cast hand cautiously. They tip his soup portion back into the larger bowl and he clings tightly as they start moving, but all in all Jongdae thinks they did a pretty good job.

They set him up beside Jongdae on one of the throw cushions to prevent him from slipping through the folds and crevices in the couch. Jongdae had questioned Junmyeon’s taste in throw cushions when they’d bought them a year ago but now, as Minseok sits in the centre, tiny and content with his soup, he can’t help but think it was a good idea.

“This is interesting?” Minseok asks about five minutes into an episode of The Simpsons. “I don’t understand it.”

“I-” Jongdae starts, frowning slightly, “It might just be… big people humour?”

“Is that why they’re yellow?”

“Honestly, even I don’t know why they’re yellow.”

Minseok lets out a laugh then, bright and sudden. It surprises Jongdae slightly at first, but he finds himself laughing as well, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

After dinner Jongdae pulls out the treats he’d bought, eager to see what Minseok thinks. He recalls the marshmallows immediately.

“Oh!” he says, pointing at them as Jongdae pulls the bag out. “I’ve had those before!”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Smiling, he nods. “One of the houses I stayed in had some kids who would put them in some kind of hot drink. I borrowed some one night and shared them with-” He pauses abruptly then, his story catching up with him. A sad expression flits across his face before he continues, softer than before. “They were really good.”

Curiosity eats at Jongdae, but he shoves it down. Instead, he tells Minseok to hang on and he gets up and heads into the kitchen. A few minutes later he comes back, steaming mug in hand, and presents it to Minseok.

“What is it?”

“Hot chocolate!” Jongdae says, grinning. Taking Minseok’s tiny cup, he gives it a wipe before filling it. “I’m pretty sure it’s what those kids were drinking. Seems fair that you should get to try some too, right? Eat marshmallows the proper way.”

Minseok seems hesitant about the cup at first, giving a cursory sip before his eyes widen in surprise. “This is really good?” he remarks to himself first, before turning to Jongdae. “This is really good!”

“Try it with a marshmallow,” he says, handing him one. Resting the cup between his crossed legs, Minseok takes the marshmallow. Tearing some off, he dips it carefully into the small cup before putting it in his mouth.

“Jongdae,” he says after a moment of silence, completely serious. “Jongdae, you’re a genius.”

Jongdae lets out a laugh, amused. As a barista, hot chocolate is completely mundane to Jongdae, but Minseok’s wonder is just so new. He’s never seen anyone react this way at a drink, let alone any drink that he’d prepared, instant or otherwise. Despite how small, it makes him happy.

He also can’t help but think how cute Minseok looks, wiggling in his seat and humming a small tune about marshmallows. He voices it to him.

“I’m-” Minseok starts before flushing, puffing his cheeks out as he pouts and stares at his hot chocolate. He says nothing in reply, sipping his hot chocolate quietly and humming with each sip.

After a while, he finally speaks up again, “Your living room is really messy.”

“Hey,” Jongdae says, “I’ll get around to it. You first, yeah? We’ll get you set to go on your way and then I’ll think about me.”

“Yeah,” Minseok says after a few moments, so quietly Jongdae nearly misses it. “When I’m gone.”

»»--------------------------««

  
He has lunch with Sehun the next day, his best friend insisting on coming along even when Jongdae insists that he has errands to run.

“I haven’t heard from you properly in days, hyung,” Sehun says when they meet up. “Jongin hasn’t either. He thought you’d somehow died from your broken arm.”

Jongdae snorts, “I’m _fine_. Honestly. I’ve just been busy.”

“Really? What television show this time?”

“With roommate stuff,” he lies, before scoffing. “There’s more in my life than just television, you know.”

Sehun smirks but doesn’t tease him further. “Have you found one yet?” he asks instead. “Met anyone weird?”

He thinks of Minseok then, except the only weird thing about Minseok is his height and the fact that he lives in the walls of peoples’ homes. Even then, the more he speaks with Minseok the less and less weird it seems. Minseok is much less weird than Henry the snake guy and Chanyeol, his coworker Baekhyun’s best friend and president of the city ferret fanclub. He’d probably be much more ideal to live with too. He doubts Minseok would bring any sort of strange pet into the house.

“Nah,” he replies. “No one yet.”

After lunch Sehun follows him to the sewing supply store. Jongdae makes some lame excuse about needing a thimble and thread for his mother to pick up when she comes over next. Even though his mother is perfectly capable of getting her own sewing supplies, Sehun doesn’t question it. Jongdae is grateful. He manages to pick up some wire as well, just in case Minseok would be interested in another alternative to string, as well as a small square of fleece which Minseok might be able to use against the cold. Sehun sends him a weird look over the fabric, but Jongdae laughs it off.

It isn’t until they’re shopping in a larger department store that Sehun catches on. They’re looking for the section that sells kitchen supplies when Sehun loses Jongdae in the toy section. He finds him ten minutes later seriously contemplating the clothes sizes that the Ken dolls wear.

“What are you doing?” He asks, deadpan.

“Uh, I’m uh,” Jongdae begins, suddenly feeling very embarrassed, “I’m looking for a present for my niece.”

“Your niece is two years old, hyung.”

“Oh, really?”

Sehun doesn’t look impressed, “Yeah. Really.”

“Huh,” Jongdae says sheepishly, forcing a bashful smile and putting the doll back on the shelf. “No wonder I couldn’t decide properly.”

“Hyung,” Sehun watches him closely as he continues, “You’ve been acting weird. What’s going on?”

He really doesn’t give Sehun enough credit. Sehun may have really clueless, distracted moments, but he is really sharp when it comes to other people. His shining moments of clarity always manage to catch Jongdae off guard.

“I’m fine, Sehunnie,” Jongdae begins, waving him off. “Really.”

Sehun doesn’t believe his attempt at a reassuring smile in the slightest, “Is this about that rat? Are you sleeping properly? ...You don’t still think it’s a person, right?” When Jongdae doesn’t answer, Sehun lets out a long suffering sigh, “ _Hyung!_ ”

“What? It is!”

“Tiny people don’t exist! I took you out drinking to get you out of the house and get you talking to some new people, not to get you drunk enough to believe that there’s a tiny person living in your house!”

Jongdae pouts. He feels stupid and embarrassed but he knows what he saw. How can he not, when Minseok’s been sharing dinner with him for the past few days and this morning he show him how to work the television. Sehun’s not going to believe him no matter what he says, and he knows Minseok is already fearful of humans to begin with so introducing them is out of the question. He’ll be gone in a few days anyway, Jongdae notes somewhat bitterly.

“Hyung, I’m seriously worried about you.”  
  
“Don’t worry,” he says, quietly. “Just give me a week, okay? Things will be better after.”

»»--------------------------««

  
When he gets home, Minseok is still in front of the television.

“Not interesting, hey?” Jongdae teases, amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Shh!” Minseok hisses at him, wearing a similar smile of his own. As Jongdae puts the shopping down on the coffee table, he notes that Minseok literally has not moved from the throw pillow he’d left him on this morning. The remote is still lying beside him, twice his size in length, and the bag of marshmallows is on his other side. He’s holding one in his hands at the moment, but his attention is completely fixed on the television.

Jongdae glances over at it, raising an eyebrow as he looks back to Minseok, “Soccer?”

“It’s good! I found it by accident but it’s really good. Much better than your yellow people show,” he teases.

“ _Hey,_ ” he whines, but there’s nothing to it. Truthfully it’s nice to see Minseok comfortable and enjoying himself. Much nicer than how cautious he’d been days ago. It feels almost normal, like they’ve been friends for a while and hadn’t just fallen into this situation.

They share dinner again, exactly the same as they did the night before. Jongdae tells him about lunch with Sehun, and how Sehun is worried about him spending so much time cooped up inside. He leaves out what Sehun had said about tiny people, not wanting to even think about it right now. He knows Sehun means well, and even though the whole thing is quite frankly bizarre, Sehun not believing him in the slightest still hurts.

In return Minseok tells him about his day, which was mainly just trying to work the television and trying find a show he understood until he stumbled upon the soccer. It’d been a match rerun between two European teams, but apparently one match had been enough to convert him into a Barcelona fan. ( _“Look!”_ he’d said excitedly, pointing to his shirt, _“They’re the same colours! It was meant to be, Jongdae.”_ ).

The talk of soccer eventually extends into what else he does, which is mainly borrowing and carving small wooden figures from scraps he finds. Jongdae also finds out that there’s a small hole behind his fridge, which is where Minseok has been living for the last two weeks. He also finds out, much to his surprise, that he actually _did_ have a rat living in his walls until Minseok scared them out. Borrowed one of the traps from Jongdae to do it because it was snooping through his stuff. Jongdae really has to admire his bravery because he can’t even face a rat the size of his hand, when Minseok came up against one at least twice his height.

He shows Minseok the Ken dolls he bought for the clothes and Minseok laughs but doesn’t rebuke them. (Except the orange Hawaiian shirt, which makes Minseok snort with laughter as he shoves Jongdae’s hand away). They fold them all into a pile for Minseok to take back to his place to sort through later, and Jongdae adds the string and the wire to the pile.

Minseok is in the process of tucking a coil of string into his pouch when Jongdae sees the bead halves again. Guilt eats at him once again and, without even thinking, he blurts, “I can fix that too.”

“What?” Minseok stills, looking up at him with big eyes.

“The bead. I can glue it back together for you, good as new. Please? Can I fix it for you?”

Small hands still on his pouch, Minseok doesn’t answer him. A reel of emotions flicker across his face, pulling at the corner of his lips and the furrow of his brow. Just as Jongdae thinks he’s about to refuse, he reaches into his pouch and pulls out both halves of the bead.

“Okay,” he concedes. Jongdae lowers his hand then, laying his palm open. It takes Minseok a few seconds to move, holding the pieces close to his chest protectively before he shifts. He places them in Jongdae’s palm with a great amount of hesitation and care, as though they could shatter at any given moment. “Please look after them.”

“I will, don’t worry,” He sends Minseok a soft, reassuring smile. “I’ll glue them together tonight and it’ll be done by the morning no problem.”

“By tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Jongdae says, but the words feel empty. “You’ll be able to leave as soon as it’s done.”

»»--------------------------««

  
Junmyeon rings him later that night when he's drifting off to sleep on the couch, mobile buzzing against his leg. He’d carried Minseok to the top of the fridge and wished him goodnight before getting to work on the bead. It shines where he’d left it to dry on the table, gleaming in the light of the television as he answers his phone.

“Hyung," Jongdae greets. “It's late."

“I know," he says, sounding much more awake than Jongdae is despite the small time difference, "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

“No, it’s all good. What's up?"

As Junmyeon speaks, talking about all these new and exciting things in Japan, from the food he’s eating to the giant Gundam he saw on the weekend, Jongdae can hear the edge of exhaustion in his voice. There’s no doubt that Junmyeon is lying right now, probably knee deep in work but working to keep Jongdae from knowing. He checks on Jongdae too, making sure that he’s been eating and sleeping enough. Telling him to draw a cute picture on his cast for him since he can’t be there to do it himself.

“Sehun tells me you've been keeping to yourself," he says finally, and Jongdae knows that this is the real reason why Junmyeon had called so late. After their disagreement today, Sehun must have called Junmyeon to talk some sense into him. Probably told Junmyeon all about his little people episode too.

Jongdae picks at the stitching in the couch as he replies, “I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”

“He says you’ve been cooped up inside for days, Jongdae. That’s not healthy, you know. You could get sick.”

“It’s fine, hyung. I’m _fine_ ,” he whines finally.

“What about a roommate? Have you found one yet?”

“No, I haven’t. They’re all so strange, hyung. One of them’s the president of the ferret club and another asked about how much soccer memorabilia he could bring in.”

“You let me bring in all my action figures.”

“But there’s a difference! You’re _you_ , hyung. I didn’t mind it because I like you. And Star Wars is cool. Soccer and snakes and ferrets aren’t Star Wars. They’re not you. What if I let snake guy in? He might be nice but I’ll have to live with a _snake_.”

Junmyeon chuckles before continuing, “Well what about anyone else? Sehun said he introduced you to one of Jongin’s dancer friends. He also said you made a new friend as well. Maybe they’re interested in staying.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know,” Junmyeon continues brightly, despite the time. “My grandmother had an unexpected visitor once. She used to tell me the story. A small boy with fairy features who liked sugar and thimbles very much, who had nowhere to stay so he moved with the wind. She helped him once, and they became unlikely friends. And then, when the wind came, the boy had a choice.”

“What did he do?” Jongdae asks tentatively, biting his lip.

“He didn’t want to leave but the wind was calling to him. He’d known nothing but the wind for his entire life until he met my grandmother. And it was nice. So he thought maybe, maybe he had finally found a place to stay. And when the time came, he couldn’t say goodbye.”

Something pulls in his chest. He thinks about Minseok and his crooked smile and bright eyes and fluffy hair, and how even though it’s only been a week they seem to fit. What had started as Jongdae trying to remove a pest had somehow evolved into a friendship. He looks at the bead on the table once more and thinks about how funny it is, that all these two separate things needed to connect was a little glue. It’s ridiculous and cheesy but it’s works. A sticky situation to bring two things together. He thinks about having to say goodbye to Minseok tomorrow, and he feels desperate.

“How do I get him to stay?”

“Jongdae,” Junmyeon says calmly, but Jongdae can picture the small smile on his face. “All you have to do is ask.”

»»--------------------------««

  
It’s fairly dark the next morning. The weather is meant to be stormy and windy, and Jongdae can’t help but think how funny it is, that Minseok is leaving with the wind.

They share lunch at his tiny kitchen dining table, sharing a banana between them. Minseok piles up his piece with sugar and pulls a face when he catches Jongdae watching him curiously. Neither of them talk as much as they had last night or any of the times before, an odd silence settling in the room.

Jongdae’s too preoccupied with Junmyeon’s words to make proper conversation anyway. His sleep last night had been awful. As exhausted as he was physically, his mind hadn’t felt it. Every thought was dedicated to Minseok and Minseok leaving and whether he’d remembered everything to give him. Whether he should’ve picked up more marshmallows from the store or invested more time into looking for some sort of nicer shoes for him. It would be wet and cold and he doesn’t want him freezing in the slightest on his way to his next place.

He’d thought about asking Minseok to stay. Considered being selfish and asking him to stay. To continue filling the lonely spot Junmyeon had left behind. It had already started seeming better, Minseok’s tiny smiles and happy teasing lifting a weight Jongdae hadn’t known he’d been carrying. Doing nothing for so long had left him stuck, but Minseok had somehow fixed that. But he knows there are other communities out there. Why would Minseok want to stay with him, with a human he’d met only days ago, over a group of his own kind of people?

They start packing after lunch, Jongdae counting out marshmallows and sugar cubes and cracker crumbs, which Minseok wraps into tiny packets using cling wrap. Each one he places neatly into his new walnut shell pack, the thimble wedged between them all. They sit nicely, and the rest he tucks into his pouch for the journey. When they’re done, Jongdae slides something over to him.

“What’s this?” Minseok asks, taking it carefully.

“A present,” he answers as Minseok peeks between the folds of cloth. After much effort, he’d managed to turn the fleece from the sewing store into a cloak of sorts, to protect Minseok from the cold wind. “It’ll keep you warm.”

It fits nicely, Jongdae notes as Minseok ties it around himself. A perfect size for him. Straightening it out, Minseok smiles softly, “Thanks.”

“Oh, also,” Jongdae says, getting up from the table. He’s back in moments with the bead, sliding into his seat easily. Holding it between two fingers, he offers it to Minseok. “Here. Good as new.”

Taking it carefully, Minseok turns it over in his hands a few times. Apart from the small split where the two pieces meet, there’s no visible damage aside from a few missing chips. It’s a little broken, but it’ll do. It’s still good. Minseok is silent for a few moments, still and staring at the bead in his hands. When he speaks, it’s so quiet he nearly misses it.

“Jongdae, thank you,” he says, words thick with emotion. “Really, thank you so much.”

“Ah, it’s no problem,” Jongdae replies, smiling bashfully. “Just… keep it safe, okay?”

Minseok nods and tucks the bead into his pouch, “Of course.”

“Hey, uh, can I ask a question?” When Minseok nods again, he continues, “What’s so special about that bead anyway?”

Minseok remains quiet for a few moments, fiddling with his hands before he speaks, “It, uh, it was my sister’s. It was her favourite thing because she’s gotten it from our mother. But then, uh, then my sister died. So now it’s mine. It’s all I have left of them all, actually. This silly bead.”

“That’s why you climbed in the box,” Jongdae breathes, “Because it was there.”

“Yeah. It’s why I risked facing the human who was trying to kill me. But you, uh, you’re nothing like I imagined,” Minseok confesses, rubbing the back of his head bashfully, “You’re not so bad, I guess.”

“Where are you planning on going?” Jongdae asks abruptly.

The question catches Minseok off guard, “Uh, south maybe? It’s getting colder so I’ll see how far out of it I can get.”

“Is there anyone you’re meeting up with?”

“No, like I said, it’s just me.”

“Look,” Jongdae begins, suddenly nervous, “I know I’m a pretty clumsy human and I can be pretty loud too as well. I’m not the best cook at all and sometimes I burn things and I know my taste in television isn’t the best but do you… do you want to stay? Like here, with me?”

The expression on Minseok’s face is nothing short of complete surprise. He stares at Jongdae, studying him exactly as he did a week ago. Looking for signs of distrust or a joke or anything, but Jongdae knows he just probably looks both hopeful and desperate.

It’s probably selfish of him to ask and to hope this much, but he does anyway. He feels selfish for feeling lonely before about having no roommate to keep him company but at least he’s still got his family. He’s still got parents and his brother, and Sehun and Jongin and Junmyeon and Baekhyun and more. The list goes on but Minseok… Minseok has no one. Junmyeon left and Jongdae broke his arm and he’s done _nothing_ , but Minseok just keeps moving despite everything. But he doesn’t have to. Minseok deserves a place to belong.

“You’re being serious?” Minseok asks finally.

“Yeah, I am. I want you to stay.”

A smile pulls at the corner of Minseok’s mouth then and he struggles to school it as he crosses the table to where Jongdae is sitting. Jongdae is confused when Minseok waves him down, wondering briefly if he’s going to smack him again for being dumb, until he puts a small hand on either cheek and leans forward to kiss his nose.

“Thank you, Jongdae,” Minseok says as he pulls away. He’s sniffling and rubbing at his eyes but there’s a smile on his face all the same. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

He wonders what Sehun will think of all this, but as a warmth blooms in his chest and a smile breaks across his face, Jongdae can’t help but feel that he’s finally done something right.


End file.
